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Tommy didn't do it because he liked pain. He didn't get off to it; he wasn't one of those masochistic freaks. It didn't bring him any pleasure. There was something freeing about it, something rebellious, but he didn't have a straight answer to why he did it.
Maybe it made him feel tougher. People would see him, see his battle scars, and assume he was one mean son of a bitch. Maybe he thought that watching his own blood roll down his arm would fundamentally change something in his brain. It might fix whatever it was in his head that made him such a monumental failure. Or maybe he thought whatever injuries he'd get in fights weren't enough. That he deserved worse that never came.
Whatever the reason, Tommy found himself sitting in the bathroom with an arm dripping in blood. He watched it catch on his arm hair and shimmer in the sunlight. It was too early to be doing something like this, but he couldn't find the awareness to care. Sure, he had practice later. Sure, someone (Freppa, definitely) was bound to see the fresh band-aids and maybe a glimpse of irritated pink skin. Whatever. He'd say he was bit by a dog or some shit.
He shuffled to the sink and rinsed the cuts with water. He dried his arm with a wad of toilet paper and reached for the box of band-aids he left on the counter. It took four bandages to cover his wounds, but that was because he'd fucked up opening one. It had gotten stuck on itself and he had to toss it.
"What happened to your arm?" It was Freppa. Of course it was Freppa. Tommy had taken his jacket off not even two minutes ago. He cursed Määnin and his perpetually hell-hot apartment.
"Nothing, mind your goddamn business."
Tommy hadn't felt his hand move to cover the band-aids until Freppa grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "Let me see. It looks bad."
Tommy wriggled out of his grip and tried to make himself look as tough as he could muster. "No, it doesn't." He thought for a moment. "You look bad." Not as snappy as he would've liked.
Practice went smoothly for the most part. Tommy could feel Freppa's eyes wander sometimes when he thought he wasn't paying attention. He just put his jacket back on and tried to ignore the heat. One of these days, he swore, he'd break into Määnin's apartment and smash his thermostat. Better, he'd break it right in front of him to show that he meant business.
When he left, he was drunker than usual. He couldn't focus on remembering lyrics when his thoughts were doing laps in his head. Beer was the only thing that would make them take a break. Maybe his inebriation was why Freppa was able to catch up to him before he got to his car. Maybe he'd let him catch him on purpose.
Whatever the reason, Tommy found himself cornered. "Please tell me what happened."
"My God, you're so nosy." Tommy hoped he couldn't make out any fear in his voice. "Some bitch bit me 'cause she didn't want me to go down on her, since you needed to know so fucking badly." Where did that come from? Why didn't he go with the stupid dog idea?
"I don't believe you." Of course he didn't. Tommy never hung out with chicks and no one ever wanted to do it with him. He really was one stupid mother fucker.
Tommy huffed. "Well, it happened. Now if you'll excuse me..." Freppa didn't leave because he wouldn't recognize a social cue if it shoved itself down his throat. Tommy felt a wave of anger and gritted his teeth. "Move."
Freppa eyed him with that stupid compassionate look in his eyes. "No. I'm worried about you. You can tell me—"
Tommy didn't do it on purpose. He didn't like to see Freppa in pain; he liked him despite all the nasty things he'd say out loud. It gave him a cavernous empty feeling in his stomach.
Freppa's nose was dripping blood. It slid over the frightened look on his face. Tommy's arm itched and he had the horrible urge to find something sharp and cut himself on Määnin's lawn. He coughed out a stiff apology and tripped on his way to his car. He'd forgotten he was so drunk and wasn't watching where he was going.
Tommy didn't know the last time he felt so shitty. He'd rolled out of bed with a hangover and answered the door half asleep. Freppa stood on the welcome mat, his face bruised and his nose not quite right.
Tommy stared at him for a moment and slammed the door.
There was a perseverant knocking. "Tommy, please let me in."
"Fuck off!"
"Can we talk? I'm really worried about you and I want—"
Tommy flung the door open and the knob crashed into the wall. "What? What the fuck do you want?"
Freppa took a step into the doorway. He wasn't bleeding anymore, but there was a patch of black and blue and purple across his cheek and his broken nose. Tommy knew suddenly that he was dead to rights. He just looked at him and tried not to look stupid.
"Can I see?" Freppa's voice was soft. He grabbed his arm gently and pried at the bandages until they peeled away. Tommy didn't stop him and he almost had the mind to be embarrassed. What the hell would Määnin think?
The cuts were red and some were still bleeding a little. Dried blood covered the band-aids and the skin around the wounds. It was gross and Tommy didn't want to look at it any longer. He wished he was wearing something with longer sleeves.
The room was too quiet and Freppa was looking at him with his big warm eyes. "Did you do this?"
"It doesn't matter. Fuck off." Stay. He wanted him to stay. "Get out of my house."
Tommy had drifted deeper into his apartment mindlessly and Freppa had followed him. He put his arms out and for a moment Tommy thought he was about to hit him. Instead, he found himself blanketed in a hug. He didn't hug back, but he savored each second of warmth and safety. He wished he didn't have to act so tough, that he didn't have to push Freppa away so vehemently, that he could wallow in his arms for a little longer. Just a moment.
He pulled Freppa's arms off of him. "Alright, get out of here, you goddamn fruit." The comment didn't have any venom in it and Freppa could tell, curse him.
"You can call me any time."
"Yeah, yeah, leave me alone. I've got a raging hangover and if you don't fuck off right now, I'll break your nose even worse than yesterday." Freppa drifted back through the doorway and onto the doormat. "Ah..." Tommy started. "I'm sorry. For punching you like that."
"I'll see you later. Take care of yourself."
"Yeah, yeah." Tommy tried his best to wave like Määnin did, but it came off forced and awkward. He smiled and Freppa closed the door behind himself.